Alone
by laneydaze96
Summary: Reid has been missing for 1 1/2 years, and the team had been forced to stop looking for him when the case went cold. Now, they have the oppurtunity to find him again. Recently redone. Warning: some self injury, nothing major! Gen
1. Alone

Reid no longer knew how long it had been since he had seen his team. He had given up hope a long time ago, with statistics of missing people that were never found running through his mind. So life had become just a depressing empty nothing, and his abductor only gave him enough drugs to make him high as a kite, never enough for an overdose. And since Reid could see or hear nothing in the pitch-black, sound-proof room, he couldn't find any objects to end it all with.

Not that he would, if he could. But, as he considered, he decided he just might.

He looked around as he heard the morning meal slide into his room, along with a syringe of Dilaudid and a tourniquet. Reid never found out how his abductor knew his drug of choice, because the man never entered the room. Reid had profiled him during his first few days in this hell, when he still had hope.

He figured that the man was watching him with a night-vision camera, since there is no reason a sociopath would abduct Reid just to feed him, and never to even lay eyes on him. Reid also knew that the man had lots of resources, since he was in this room with fully padded sound-proof walls, and since the man could afford to give him dilaudid every day. Honestly, Reid never figured out much, or why he was captured.

Now, Reid sat in the corner of the tiny room, scratching the inside of his arm, where the track marks were. If he weren't in the situation he were in, we would be ashamed of using the drugs, of the way he scrambled in the dark to find it every time he heard the sweet sound of a rolling syringe, of how drugs were all he could look forward to for the next day. Because every day was repetition. Although, he wasn't quite sure on what a 'day' was anymore. His biological clock was completely messed up. All he knew was that he was abducted on September 14, 2010.

But every 5 hours or so, until a longer gap which he guessed was night time, a tray would be pushed in with the same food. A corned beef sandwich with mustard on the side, a salad with ranch dressing, and an apple. A water bottle rolled in as well. Every day, every meal, was all the same. Then, after about an hour, a syringe and a tourniquet would roll in. When Reid was successfully high and asleep, he would wake up to find everything gone. If he didn't take the drugs, the man would enter anyway. Reid couldn't see the man enter, because somehow, the room outside his cell was completely dark as well. He could only hear the sound of soft, padded shoes entering his cell. When he heard this, he would desperately stand up shakily, stumbling forward, but the man always struck him away, Reid's weak form falling back to the floor..

And after a while, sometimes a bucket with a sponge and soap would enter. A razor would also enter, although Reid found it difficult to shave in the dark.

But the man at least had a toilet in the little room, so Reid had one little bit of humility.

One day, when Reid needed sound to jerk him into reality, he flushed the toilet. Over and over again. Just to hear some sound.

That day, the man had turned Reid's water off for a while.

Reid didn't do that again.

BAU Headquarters, Quantico, Virginia. Tuesday, March 13, 2011.

JJ walked past Morgan and Prentiss, who were talking and laughing about something completely unrelated to work, as usual. "You're kidding, right?" Morgan said, laughing out loud.

"I wish I was! So he pulls out this rose, and he grabs my hand. And he says, 'will you accept this rose?'" She said, mimicking a serious, love-stricken expression.

"What did you say?" chuckled Morgan.

"Well, I didn't know what the hell he was talking about, so I asked what he was doing!"

Morgan shook his head. "Way to blow a man's ego, Prentiss. He obviously planned this out in his head, way to blow it up."

Prentiss laughed. "What would you have done? So he tells me he's trying to be romantic, like the Bachelor!"

"You actually found someone nerdier than yourself. Way to go!" Morgan laughed. Suddenly, JJ brushed by them, accidentally knocking Morgan on his shoulders.

"Guys, check this out," said JJ, turning on the news.

The reporter's voice filled the bull pen. "Dr. Dwyre was reportedly removed from his office after attacking one of his patients. Doctors have said that he could have been having a psychotic break, something that he was known to diagnose. While in custody, he told police officers that he had to return to his home to check up on his patient, although no records exist of any roommates."

Morgan looked at JJ with an uninterested expression. "Yeah? He's just experiencing a psychotic break. He's delusional."

JJ shook her head. "Apparently, he has had this 'patient' for months. His coworkers say that he headed home early every day, and although he had been checked up for track marks, he was in possession of drugs. In his home were also clothes that weren't his size. Deputies want us to help out, they suspect he's holding someone captive, without any resources."

Prentiss shook her head. "I don't know. I don't think this is our case. Why do they want us?"

Hotch suddenly stepped out of his office, briskly walking down the stairs. "Because they can't get him to talk, he's in a psychotic break. And they've found evidence," he said grimly.

He held up pictures of a shirt with blood on it. "It's not his. They've checked. There's also hair on it."

Flashback

March 7, 2011

Reid had just shot up with dilaudid. JJ appeared before him, and he reached out to her, with his fingers outstretched. "JJ," he said, his voice raspy from lack of use. "JJ," he said, trying desperately to make her hear him.

After a while, JJ disappeared, leaving him alone in the dark again. He yelled out in frustration, grabbing his long hair and pulling at it. Angry, he reached around in the dark for the razor that had entered a while ago. With tears streaming down his face, he broke the disposable razor, not minding slicing his hand open in the process. He slashed at his wrists without thinking, wanting to end the useless time he was spending.

Suddenly, he was overcome with regret, thinking of his mother, and of his team. "God dammit," he said, crying. He pulled off the tee shirt that is abductor had supplied for him and pushed it on the gash, slowing the bleeding. As long as he was alive, there was always a flicker of hope.

Present Day (March 13, 2011)

"So they want us to get him to talk, in case the person he has dies of dehydration or something?" asked Morgan.

Hotch nodded. "It's local, so it's easy commute anyway. We haven't worked with the local PD since . . . so just, be professional, all right everyone?" he said, walking off.

The team grimaced, thinking of the last time they had worked with local PD. Last time, they were trying to find Reid. The thought made JJ's eyes tear up, and Morgan just shuffled papers, muttering something about finding Rossi to tell him. He stalked off.

"JJ, you ok?" asked Prentiss, putting a hand on JJ's shoulder comfortingly.

JJ nodded. "Yeah, yeah I'm alright. It's just, I don't know, don't you ever wonder if we could have found him? I mean, we could have, we're the BAU-"

"Jayge, we did everything. You know it. So just stop beating yourself up," said Prentiss, compartmentalizing. She was affected by the loss of the baby of the team as well. Reid was just, Reid. And when he disappeared, the team fell apart for a while.

Hotch had become more professional than ever, becoming more of a drill sergeant than a team leader. He knew he had to stay strong, but he couldn't help but imagine what life would be like if his son just disappeared off the face of the earth like Reid had.

Morgan got angry easily, and quickly got a reputation as being 'hot-tempered'. He never spoke about his missing friend, and changed the subject whenever he was brought up. When Garcia had visited Morgan, she found a huge hole in his wall, and when she asked for an explanation, he shrugged, and said, 'I got in a fight with the wall, and I won'. For a while, he almost jumped for joy whenever he saw a tall guy with long-ish hair, as if he still hoped Reid would just pop out of nowhere and say, 'Hey, Guys! Miss me?'

JJ cried. A lot. She empathized even better with the families of victims, and the experience had made her better at her job, as depressing as that sounded. She refused to make anyone else Henry's godfather, because she was still hopeful that he would return.

Prentiss compartmentalized, until once she exploded on the janitor who was cleaning off Reid's desk. After that, Reid's desk had stayed as it was, although the team pretended they didn't notice the out of date newspaper sitting on it, or the dust that was generating on the surface of his miscellaneous items..

Rossi was the one who tried to keep everyone calm, and since he didn't know the kid as well, he could do so, without getting too involved. But when the team wasn't around, he had allowed himself to mourn Reid's loss, because he knew as well as anyone that Reid was probably never going to be found alive.

Garcia, for a while, acted like the sun didn't shine anymore. It took a long time before she started coming up with witty remarks to her team, but even then she wasn't as full of life. The team wasn't complete anymore, and whenever a statistic was stated, they would all think about how Reid would have wanted to update his 'database'.

Police department of Quantico

"Agent Hotchner, haven't seen you in a while," said Detective Morris, the lead detective on the case. Detective Morris was a tall, somewhat chubby man, with dark hair and dark eyes. He looked intimidating to anyone but those who knew him well enough to know that he was a kind, caring man.

"Yes, and I'm sure you remember agents Jareau, Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi" said Hotch formally as he introduced them.

Detective Morris shook hands with them as they entered. "Yes, I remember. Last time we worked together wasn't the best of circumstances. Now, I assume you understand the case?" he said, getting quick to the point. "We believe this is time sensitive, so we needed your help."

Hotch nodded. "Yes, we understand. Agents Morgan and Prentiss were hoping to visit Dr. Dwyre's home, if you don't mind," he said. "Rossi and I would like to speak to Dr. Dwyre as soon as possible, if you don't mind," he said.

Morris nodded. "Of course. We're holding him here. Right this way," he said.

Hotch entered the interrogation room immediately, followed by Rossi. The two men sat down, across from Dr. Dwyre.

Dr. Dwyre was an attractive man, for a crazed sociopath, of course. He was a decent height, about 5' 11", with light brown hair and hazel eyes. He was 36 and rather intelligent, with his degree in medicine. He had been decorated in awards for his achievements in psychology, particularly with the causes and treatments for mental illnesses, like schizophrenia.

Hotch laid the file out in front of Dr. Dwyre, and began with cautious, (not noticeably so) interrogation. Hotch wanted to know the lucidity of the man, to understand how to pursue.

"Dr. Dwyre, do you understand why you are here?" asked Agent Hotchner, with a piercing gaze.

Dr. Dwyre looked up, an arrogant and speculative look in his eye. "You know, I understand how you people work, you _Behavioral Analysis _expert_s_. I'm a psychiatrist, after all. I understand exactly how the mind works. And I know you are searching for whether or not I understand my situation and if I can tell the truth. And to tell you, agent, I am perfectly capable of telling you why I am here, so yes, I understand why I am here," he said in a smooth voice. "And by the way, could I get your name?"

Hotch rapidly began profiling the psychiatrist. Dr. Dwyre obviously had a bit of a narcissistic personality, like when he said, 'I understand _exactly _how the mind works'. Hotch, with his experience as a profiler, knew that no one could ever know exactly how the mind works. And he certainly did not know how Dr. Dwyre knew that he was a profiler. Hotch had never mentioned it. He barley spoke ten words before Dwyre took over the conversation.

"I'm Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, and you aren't just here for a brutal and unprovoked attack on one of your patients. You're here because the so-called 'patient' that you need to get home to needs to be found. Yes, Dr. Dwyre, during your 'not so lucid' moments, you let that slip," Hotch pressed as Dwyre let his composure slip for a moment.

"I didn't . . ." he trailed. Dwyre panicked on the inside. They knew? Then his experiment would be useless. It wouldn't work.

"So you need to tell us before that person dies of dehydration. Because I'm taking a wild guess and saying that he's not just rooming rooming with you, judging by the blood in his shirt." Hotch pressed, taking a step forward in the interrogation.

Reid curled up on his side in his little cell. It had been a full day now without his abductor bringing him food or water, and he was getting thirsty. But that wasn't just it. He had been on a set schedule. He needed the drugs, he had gone 24 hours without them now.

Reid had noticed that he had violent tremors, and that he was shaking. 'Great,' he thought. 'Withdrawl.'

He began to talk aloud. "Maybe I'll just die here. What a wasted . . ." he thought, his eyebrows scrunched together. "Year? Hmmm, now I'm going crazy, talking to myself." Then, he had a pain in his stomach, and knew he was going to be sick.

He crawled towards the direction of the toilet, feeling around as quickly as he could before finding the cold ceramic and vomiting. Gasping, he flushed the toiled, frowning as he realized the sound was off. The water drained, but it was not replaced. "Damn, now the water is off," he said, frowning. He began itching at his arm again, anxiously scratching at the scabs created by his syringes, with the dilaudid that he had injected blindly. Feeling around for a vein was much harder than it looked, and more than once he missed the vein and his high was less than satisfactory.

Looking back now, he wished he hadn't given in to the drug that had rolled into his cell a few months after his capture.


	2. Lab Results

Hey all! Or, Bonjour! I'm back from a trip to England and France, which was lovely! My 4th time to England, and my 3rd to France.

Anyway, on with the story.

March 13, 2011. Police Department of Quantico.

Dwyre leaned back in his seat, contemplating his next move. The agent in front of him he recognized, at least by name. Hotchner was the name that Dr. Reid would mumble occasionally, along with several other names. He also knew that Dr. Reid was an F.B.I. agent, with his ID. Any idiot could figure out that Hotchner worked with Dr. Reid. Dwyre could use this, if he knew how to play his cards.

So the question was, to tell, or not to tell? If he didn't tell, Dr. Reid could die and he could never find out how his mind reacted to the year and a half of social isolation and lack of sunlight. So his purpose would never be fulfilled. But, Reid was being taped. If Dwyre didn't tell and they never could accuse him, he could get home and watch the tapes.

He decided to let the name slip, for a little fun. He had nothing to lose anyway. Plus, he might get to speak to Dr. Reid when he was found, if alive.

Hotchner stared down Dwyre. He had just told Dwyre that they had evidence against him. Dwyre had reacted only a little nervously, and just looked like he was deep in thought.

Hotch decided to let Dwyre speak first. The more he spoke without a lawyer present, the more info they could get on him.

Dwyre looked up, staring Agent Hotchner in the face. "Agent Hotchner. Well, that does sound familiar. I've heard it many times in the past year or so. But it wasn't Hotchner, just Hotch. Is that a nickname, or just a short name? Do you still think of it as a formal name, or a casual friendly name? I couldn't tell, when it was mentioned, the party speaking was asleep." He stared at Hotchner, gauging a reaction, just like Hotch was to him.

Hotch backtracked. How could he possibly have heard his name? He didn't know this man, and neither did anyone he knew. Otherwise he would have heard, the way this story was all over the news.

"Don't play games with me Dwyre. Who are you keeping in your house? The sooner you tell us, the more lenient a court will be with you, and the more willing we will be to tell a jury that you cooperated." Said Hotchner coldly.

Dwyre did not break eye contact. "I'll give you a few hints, because I happen to like a challenge. Your victim is male. He is living, or was when I left. And he shouldn't be for much longer. There's three hints for you. Now, why don't you phone your tech analyst and have her run up a list of names?"

Dwyre watched with satisfaction as Hotch's face held changed for a split second. It could have been coincidence that Dwyre knew the team had a tech analyst. In fact, it probably was. But he couldn't help a cold feeling rise up in his gut about Dwyre. "Dwyre, I've already told you. I don't play games. Tell me straight up who you are holding captive in your home-"

"Ah, Agent Hotchner. That's where you're wrong. I never said he was in my home, now did I?" Dwyre interrupted smoothly, smiling. The door opened and JJ appeared, looking at Hotch and noticeably ignoring Dwyre.

"Sir, the lab has some info for you. On the fingerprints found on some used syringes," she said, trying to scare Dwyre. Rossi and Morgan, who had been watching the interrogation, told her to do it, trying to induce a reaction.

It didn't work. Hotch nodded and walked out, following JJ to the detectives in the observing room. Hotch, Rossi, Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan stood with detective Morris, waiting for the results. "Did you get a hit?" asked Hotch, not expecting one. Only people who worked with the government and convicts had there fingerprints in the system.

Morris sighed. He didn't know what the agents' reactions would be about the news. "Yeah, we got a hit."

The team waited expectantly. "Are you going to tell us?" asked Rossi, sarcastically.

Morris nodded. "The match was Spencer James Reid."

Reid winced as his stomach had another painful cramp. It had only been a little bit since he had to vomit, and now he was having more withdrawal symptoms. It was going to be a long few days, assuming he wasn't found. At least he would die of dehydration in about 3 days. Maybe less. Reid tried to think about something other than the cravings and pain in his stomach. He could recite a book. What was a good book to recite? What was JJ's favorite book?

That made him stop. He began running through everyone on his teams favorite things, if he could. But his eidetic memory was mostly for reading, not for listening. His eyes welled up when he realized he couldn't remember JJ's favorite butterfly. JJ loved butterflies. She had since she was little. JJ could even teach Reid things he didn't know about butterflies, and that was hard to do.

He thought of Morgan. Morgan loved basketball, and surprisingly was a Lakers fan. One time, they were on a case, and Reid had to share a room with Morgan. They got in an argument because a Laker's championship game was on, and a marathon of Star Trek was on. Morgan argued that Star Trek was old and Reid had seen it a thousand times, and Reid insisted that Morgan could find out the results of the game in the morning, and that he didn't have to watch it. Reid still didn't understand the allure of watching sports.

Hotch, although he wouldn't let anyone EVER know it, liked science. He always knew when the latest episode of Nova was on. He would watch it with Jack, even though Jack was a little kid who couldn't understand what he was watching. Reid had seen Hotch explain science to Jack once. Garcia would describe it as 'absolutely adorable'.

Prentiss liked to listen to music. And not the cheap, awful stuff that new artists are coming out to, but real music. Reid went to an orchestral music concert with her once, since she knew no one else would be into something like that. Reid looked over and saw her close her eyes during a particularly emotional part of a song. She was just breathing deeply and smiling, listening to the music. Reid wouldn't forget that, since Prentiss usually never shows anything other than her 'bad-ass'ness.

Reid sighed as he though about his team. They were everything to him. He though about what they were doing now, and how long it had taken for them to give up on him. 'I hope not too long. I don't want them to waste time they could be using saving so many lives, just to find me,' he thought. But he knew subconsciously, that he never wanted them to stop looking. He wanted someone to care, to look for him. But it would be illogical. He wouldn't ever be found.

JJ made a sound like she had been punched in the gut. Prentiss had disbelief written on her face, looking to Hotch subconsciously for reassurance. Morgan just stood, and Rossi spoke first. "You're sure?"

Detective Morris sighed again, and nodded. "Yes. I don't know if this is good news or bad news. I'm sorry," he said, sighing. He walked out, giving them some privacy.

Hotch nodded. He looked strained, but he put on a composure that was hard to obtain in the current situation. "Alright team. We need to get Reid home. We know who he is, but we don't know where he is. Morgan, you and Prentiss go to Dwyre's house, knock down what ever you need to, just see if you can find where Reid is hidden. Rossi, help me with interrogation. JJ, I want you to talk to all of the people that work with Dwyre, see if they know anything that might have to do with Reid. His latest project, he might have called it," Hotch said. JJ nodded, looking determined, but nervous. She walked away, with a new determined stride.

Rossi looked at Hotch, whose face lost some of its firm touch when JJ left. "What do you think our chances of finding Reid are?" asked Rossi, now that the younger members of the team had gone.

Hotch didn't answer for a moment, then looked at Rossi with his signature stern look. "You can ask Reid the statistics when we find him," he said firmly.

Hotch then turned around and entered the interrogation room, fully intent on finding out where his missing agent was. Rossi followed, with respect building up for him.

JJ walked into the hospital, heading straight to the psychiatric ward. She walked up to the nurse behind the desk. "How can I help you?" asked the nurse, putting down the phone he had just been using.

"Hi, I'm Agent Jennifer Jareau with the F.B.I., and I need to speak to some of the doctors closest to Dr. Dwyre, as soon as possible. It's an urgent matter," she said, flashing her badge to the R.N.

He nodded. "Dr. Poultaire knew him best. She was the only one Dwyre really talked to. I'll go get her for you," he said, and walked off, quickly. JJ stood and looked around. She saw a patient sitting up in bed, arguing with a doctor and frantically pointing at something in the corner that JJ couldn't see. JJ felt a pang of sympathy, but was distracted from the upset looking patient when an older woman with a doctor's jacket showed up. "Hello, you must be with the F.B.I. I'm Dr. Poultaire, how can I help you?" she said, shaking JJ's hand. JJ got right to business.

"Hi. I'm asking questions about Dr. Dwyre. I need to know what you know about his projects," said JJ. "Anything at work he prioritized, that he was interested in."

Poultaire nodded, sadness evident in her eyes. "Yes, he was obsessive in his work. I was really the only person he talked to, other than patients. But he didn't have a lot of patients, he studied more. He was fascinated with the genetics behind mental illness, by what causes it, and if genetic heredity plays a role. He studied that a lot. Bipolar mood disorder, eating disorders, schizophrenia. Lots of them."

JJ nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Poultaire," she said, feeling nervous for her young friend. "Do you know if he found anything on this subject in the last year and a half?" she asked. If he had, his revelation on the subject might have been with experiments with Reid. She shuddered at the thought.

Dr. Poultaire thought, and shook her head. "But in the past year or so he became interested in another subject. You would know it as cabin fever, but severe forms of it. And P.T.S.D. He didn't have a lot of patients in the last year. He was in his office a lot, researching. I'm surprised the hospital kept him, with what little work for patients he actually does. I assume the only reason he is still here is because of connections," she said.

"Connections? What connections?" JJ asked.

"His father was a very well known surgeon here. He was the best, until he generated bipolar disorder, a very severe form. He began to hallucinate, and he was dangerous to have working here. Eventually, he died from a heart attack. He was highly respected though, and left donations and awards for our hospital. I assume the board just doesn't want to fire his son."

JJ nodded, memorizing all this information. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Poultaire," she said, shaking the doctor's hand.

Poultaire nodded, "I hope you find whoever Dwyre is holding, I really do. Good luck."

JJ gave a small nod, and looked down. "I do too," she said quietly, thinking of her Spence.

This could be very JJ/Reid if you looked at it. Some parts could, anyway. Sorry, this is a bit shorter than my last chapter, and I let the team find out a bit sooner than I would have liked, but Reid's prints WOULD have been in the system. So, technically, that was accurate. XD

REVIEW. NOW. OR I WILL HURT YOU. XD lol I wouldn't hurt any of my readers. Or maybe I would? Hmmm . . .


	3. Found

Sorry about the incredibly long delay in an update. I do have my reasons, but I hope I will be able to update at a more reasonable pace in the future. Again, my apologies!

March 10, 2011.

Dr. Dwyre sat across from his patient, his knee jumping up and down. His patient was bent over, his arms around his middle. "I guess I'm in a pretty good mood today. The medication isn't very helpful, but I guess its better than it would be without it," he said in a shaky, nervous voice. "But when I was on zyprexa, I was way better. At least, I thought I was. Except, that stuff made so fat. I still remember it. But now this stuff just makes my stomach hurt. And these therapy sessions aren't helping. Besides, you only have like two patients. Maybe you're just not a good doctor. Cause I'm not getting any better," he said bitterly, his mood going from ok to just foul.

"I am so sick of this. I don't want to hear it! You always whine and whine, would you just shut up?" said Dr. Dwyre madly, his eyes flashing. The mood change was so abrupt, his patient leaned back, putting space between them.

"Hey man, I'm just ranting, this is therapy, you're supposed to listen-" he said, but was cut off. Dr. Dwyre stood up, pushing him over, and sent the patient toppling backwards, the chair with him. He then proceeded to kick him, until nurses came in and pushed a sedative into Dr. Dwyre. They had no idea why he had had a sudden violent episode, but they had to call the police, noticing the battered patient.

Dr. Dwyre was taken into custody, and when the sedative ran off, he started muttering. "You have to let me go. You have to let me go! I need to go home, I have a patient there that I need to take care of!" he yelled, slamming his hands on the table. Three days later, the police officers called in the BAU.

Present Day (March 13, 2011)

Morgan drove like a maniac to Dwyre's house, with Prentiss holding on to the seat for dear life. Her knuckles were turning white. "Morgan, slow down!" Prentiss exclaimed, glancing at her coworker. Morgan's face was full of, if you didn't know him well enough, raw fury. But Prentiss knew that his face actually showed determination and panic.

"Emily, we're almost there. Reid could be there. Alone. Prentiss, he's been with that psycho for a year and a half. What have we been doing? Absolutely nothing! I mean, c'mon, Emily. Really? I'm not slowing down. Not when I could finally find him again," Morgan ranted. Emily was filled with emotion. She felt sorrow and grief for her missing teammate. She felt pity for Morgan.

"Morgan, we did everything we could. You know how Strauss can be. Reid wouldn't want us wasting time on him, when we could be saving lives-"

"Emily, don't you think Reid has earned at least the eyes of the BAU? Don't you think for once, he can be appreciated, and prioritized? He has sacrificed so much, and now, he could be dead!" the words left his mouth ahead of his thoughts. Emily and Morgan went silent at his word's.

They both realized that he told the truth of the situation. Reid could be dead. Or completely different than the Reid they knew and loved.

Morgan thought back to when he first met Reid. Gideon had introduced them, and Morgan had not even taken him seriously. Morgan laughed out loud when Reid gave him a statistic about IQs, when Morgan had made a comment on Reid's 'through the roof' IQ.

Morgan sighed, loudly in the silence that was there car ride. They pulled into the driveway, and Morgan walked up to the police officer in charge. Dwyre's house was nice, an old stucco style with an arched doorway. The police officer began to extend his hand, but was cut off by Morgan.

"Hi, I'm agent Morgan, this is agent Prentiss. What have you found in the house?" asked Morgan, ignoring the pleasantries.

The police officer noticed and became a little angry. He didn't let it show, though. "Right this way," he said, like a host would to his guests. He walked them in.

"We haven't found much of anything, except some journals. They're pretty bad. They're all about his experimentation and theories on stressors for psychosis. Cabin fever seems to be his favorite in the journal."

They hurried through the house, Morgan not bothering to wait for people. He could examine the contents of this insane doctor's house later. Right now, he needed to find Reid.

"Prentiss, look around. Officer, you sure you found no cellars or anything in this house?" asked Morgan, looking around as if a hidden doorway would magically appear in a wall.

The officer nodded grimly, all irritation from their previous encounter vanished. "Yeah. We searched top and bottom. We haven't really looked on the property, though. This guy has ten acres of land out back," he said. Morgan and Prentiss shared a look.

"We need to go search, now," said Morgan. Prentiss nodded.

"I'm calling Rossi," she said.

**Police Station**

Rossi held his phone up to his ear. "I'm coming over there, since there's not much for me to do here. Hotch has got the interrogation," he said, hanging up.

He spoke into Hotch's earpiece; "I'm heading out to Dwyre's property. There is ten acres of land to search," he said quickly and bluntly. Instead of replying, Hotch glanced up at the mirror, giving Rossi the notion that Hotch had heard.

Hotch sat across from Dwyre, for the second time that day. "You can tell us where Dr. Reid is now, or you can wait, and we tell the jury you were uncooperative." Said Hotch in the steely tone he acquired from being a lawyer and F.B.I. profiler.

Dwyre looked up. "Well, I'm sure you'll find him soon. But I'm not sure he'll be quite the same as you remember him," said Dwyre, holding back a smile.

Reid started feeling hot. He was shaking, and he could feel his whole body give violent tremors amidst his shaking. The withdrawl was worse than he thought. It had only been about 28 hours, at least he thought, and he was feeling like hell. But since he had a routine dosage time set, it probably made it worse, since his body expected to have dilaudid coursing through his veins right about now. He wondered if his abductor had done this on purpose, and planned on killing Reid. He was getting really dehydrated now. It had been three days, and he hadn't even noticed the symptoms of dehydration, his body craving the drug more than water. But he knew he would probably not last much longer without water, and felt his hands becoming harder and harder to stretch the skin on.

**Dwyre's Property **

Rossi pulled up, and hurried out back, having just called Morgan and Prentiss to tell them he was almost there. He waited, and saw Morgan and Prentiss emerging from the woods to his right. "These woods are really thick, it's hard to see distance in them," said Prentiss, walking over. "But ten acres isn't much. We should be able to find anything out there," she said.

Rossi nodded. "Good. I'm guessing you guys haven't found anything at all?" he asked, shifting to his left side.

Morgan shook his head. "We covered basically all the land on that side," he said, gesturing to the right side of the property. "And we just have to check the other side." He looked frustrated in their lack of progress.

An SUV pulled up while Morgan was talking, and JJ got out. "Hey guys," she said, running over. "I started driving here when I finished talking to Dwyre's colleagues. He was fascinated in Cabin Fever and P.T.S.D.," she said, but Morgan cut her off.

"We can worry about _why_ this son-of-a-bitch took Reid later. Right now, why don't we actually _find_ him?" he said, irritated.

**Police Station**

"Why? What did you do to him?" asked Hotch, ignoring the classic interrogation technique of understanding, and just drilling him. He waited for an answer.

JJ and Prentiss ran through the woods, stepping around bushes and weeds, looking for any sort of outbuilding or shelter. Morgan and Rossi stood a few feet away from them. Prentiss spotted something, a pile of leaves that was too badly placed to be natural. "Guys!" she said, calling to the team. They ran over, guns drawn as they swept aside the leaves revealing a trap-door type opening. They turned on their flashlights and carefully entered.

"I laid no physical harm on your agent. I was doing research. It was only for the good of science. Surely, you understand. You are an intelligent man, after all?" said Dwyre, leaning forward, putting his hands on the table, clasped together.

"The last time I checked, human experimentation is illegal. What exactly were you trying to research, anyway, Dwyre?" asked Hotch coldly.

**Dwyre's Property**

Prentiss, JJ, Rossi, and Morgan filed down the stairs, letting the police officers wait outside. They still had their guns drawn out of protocol. The trapdoor, they noticed, was thickly padded, so when it closed, no light could enter through any crack. They left it open, but still turned on the light switch at the top of the stairs. "He probably has this place running on a generator," said Rossi, looking around. They hurried down the stairs, coming to a more open area. At the end of the small room was a door, with a slot at the very bottom of it. It had no window, and appeared to be made of some sort of metal.

"_I was experimenting with P.T.S.D. and cabin fever. Honestly, I'm surprised no one told you already. My journals are full of my research."_

"_And Reid was your test subject? What exactly do you predict is going to be the effects on him?" asked Hotch, treading lightly as if he feared the answer. _

The small team surrounded the door, and Prentiss put her hand on the handle. She looked up at Morgan, and he nodded. They were so close. Reid had to be here. She pushed open the door, realizing it was somewhat hard to push because it was so thickly padded. "Reid! Reid, are you in here?" she called, shining her flashlight in the room. They entered cautiously, until they heard the gasps of pain.

"_Well, I'm sure that he will have extreme sensitivity to light. It will probably be very painful for him to see any sort of it."_

_Hotch's brow furrowed at this. "Why?"_

"_Because, he hasn't seen any kind of light for one and a half years. His life has been complete darkness."_

(About one minute ago) Reid was slumped up against a wall, leaning in the corner that he had made the area he sleeps in. His mouth was so dry, and he was so wracked with hot flashes and tremors, that he just wanted to die. 'Why couldn't he have killed me?' he thought. He didn't want to talk aloud, his tongue was so dry. But suddenly, he heard the door open. He thought it would be his abductor, but then a blinding light shone through and hit his eyes like daggers being driven into his skull. He gasped, and clutched his head, too driven by the shock of light to notice the people entering his prison cell. "Reid?" he heard. "Reid are you in here?" instead of replying, he gasped louder, seeing another beam of light shone in his direction. He had to close his eyes, and relied on sound.

Prentiss shone the light on Reid, and a wave of emotions coursed through her. But she had to get to Reid, and she hurried to him instead.

"_He will be sensitive to touch, as well. Not being touched by anything but his same surroundings for eighteen months, after all. And there was nothing really in his cell." _

Morgan rushed over to Reid, pushing the door open wider and letting light flood the room. He didn't even bother to look at the room, but there wasn't anything in there to look at anyway, save for the huddled form of his former colleague in the corner. Reid was currently closing his eyes though, his face scrunched in pain. "Prentiss?" he called out, finally registering that he heard Prentiss.

To Reid, it all seemed surreal. This couldn't be happening. Emily was here! She had found him! But the light, he couldn't open his eyes to see her. So he called out instead.

Morgan rushed over, and Prentiss was already crouched next to a seemingly unharmed Reid. JJ and Rossi rushed over as well. JJ had tears welling up in her eyes, seeing her Spence again. His hair had grown longer, to his shoulders, but it was pushed behind his ears. He even had traces of stubble on his face, and she had never seen Reid with any sort of facial hair. It was oddly shocking.

"Reid! Hey, Reid, it's Morgan!" Morgan said carefully, and touched his arm. Reid jumped, and the touch felt strange and alien to him. He cowered into the corner more, keeping his eyes closed. Morgan looked confused at the reaction, and hurt. The rest of them looked confused as well.

"_He will be very doubtful and paranoid. That will be anxiety from cabin fever, I suppose, along with other things." _

"Morgan? Prentiss?" muttered Reid, his voice raspy. "Is it really you?" he asked, wondering if this was a hallucination from the withdrawl and dehydration.

"Yeah Spence, it's your team. We're here. Rossi, Prentiss, Morgan and me," said a voice. She didn't say here name, but Reid didn't need it. He knew that only one person in the entire world ever called him Spence.

"JJ?" he said, his voice small.

"Yeah Spence, it's me," she said, kneeling down beside him. She touched his arm, letting him know she was there, but she did it gently and cautiously. "I'm here, Spence. Right here."

He jumped, but allowed JJ to touch him. He reached out gently, trying to find her with his hands. He found her face, and she let him touch her face like a blind man would. "JJ", he said, reaching out and embracing her. He began to sob, dry sobs, and Morgan had to look away, as if he were encroaching on Reid's privacy by watching him cry. Reid held on to JJ, who also began to cry, as if he would never let go. They sat on the cold concrete ground together, just embracing.

**Police Station**

"And most of all, he will probably never be the same person ever again. And I doubt he will be sane. Particularly with his family genetics," said Dwyre, leaning away from Agent Hotchner.

And as much as Hotch wanted to disagree with Dwyre, he wasn't sure Reid would be quite the same either. He had seen enough horrors in his life, and to be trapped with nothing but his thoughts for a year and a half . . . it was enough to make anyone go mad.

So, they have Reid. Now is the recovery process, the long recovery process. And how has Diana Reid been without her son's letters? Hmmm . . . we will find out.

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	4. Outdoors

I just wanted to thank all of you reviewers. That was such a response, that I had to write another chapter as thanks! You guys are great. And thanks for the formatting comments. I totally pictured this as an episode, and that lead to the way it was written. XD

On with the story . . .

**Dwyre's Property**

Reid sat on the floor in JJ's arms for another minute, never wanting to let go. He never wanted to lose anyone again. The same thought ran through JJ's mind as she held him, feeling his shaking form. "Spence . . . we should get out of here. Come on," she said, pulling away, although reluctantly. Reid felt along the wall and stood up, swaying on his feet.

"Reid, man, what's wrong? How come you won't open your eyes?" asked Morgan, concerned.

Reid shook his head, with one arm still leaning against the wall. "It hurts . . . so bad. It's too bright . . ." he muttered, like a small child. Prentiss glanced at Rossi, and Rossi gave her a look. He gave a subtle nod, and Prentiss pulled out a pair of sunglasses.

"Reid?" she said, gently laying a hand on his shoulder. Reid jumped a little, and kept his head down.

"Emily?" he said, bringing a hand up to touch her hand.

"Here, try these," she said, placing the sunglasses in his hand. "Sunglasses," she said.

Reid's face scrunched up, and he held them. It felt strange. A small thing, an everyday object, and he was oddly elated just to have the chance to hold them again. He gently put the sunglasses on his face, hands still shaking from withdrawl. He gently opened his eyes, noticing that his head was at least not splitting anymore, although it was still bright and he still had to squint in the light. He saw JJ first, like an angel. Seeing. He could see again, even though it hurt a little. Her face . . . it was just as he remembered it. He saw Morgan, with a look on his face like he could almost cry, but still managing to look pissed. A look he had only had during the Carl Bueford case. He saw Rossi, looking always as knowing, but Rossi looked more worn than he had remembered. Something had happened to Rossi when he was gone. _Of course, you idiot, _Reid thought. _Time doesn't stop just because I'm not there,'_ The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. They had been out, living lives. While he had been stuck here, in the dark. With nothing. Nothing but memories. And did he have a lot of those. Memories of murder victims . . . red, red blood.

"Come on, Pretty Boy," said Morgan affectionately, standing by him, gently touching his forearm. Suddenly, Morgan noticed. "Reid, what's that?" Reid looked, for the first time in a year and a half, and saw his inside arm. There were so many track marks, his arm was scarred and red. The new ones stood out bright against his arm, angry and bleeding from irritated picking at them. Reid had never thought to use other areas to shoot up. He couldn't see his arm, he didn't think it looked that bad.

Reid gave Morgan a shameful, pleading look, as if Morgan would yell at him. He tried rolling down the sleeves of his shirt, which he had previously rolled up due to the hot flashes.

"Reid, did he drug you?" asked Morgan, standing in front of Reid.

Reid looked up again, staring into Morgan's eyes. Morgan wasn't mad. Morgan didn't think it was Reid that shot himself up all the time. Morgan didn't believe that Reid would sink that low. At least, that's how Reid viewed it.

Reid considered for a moment. He could say yes, and feel less ashamed. But he would be called a liar by his abductor as well . . . if his abductor was alive. Or he could say no, he took them, and just be honest. He wanted to lie, but he had gone down that road once before.

"I, I need water," he rasped, avoiding the subject for now, even though his body was aching with need for the drug.

Realization hit Rossi. "Reid, have you had any water in the past three days?" he asked, concern etched on his face. Reid looked down, ashamed again.

_24 hours ago_

Reid had become so thirsty, he couldn't think right. All the sweating his body had done hadn't helped things, and he had become severely dehydrated. But the sink didn't run water, and he didn't have anything to drink. Except . . .

His thoughts flashed to the toilet bowl. Since he hadn't had anything to eat or drink in a couple days, he hadn't had to use the bathroom. Leaving the toilet bowl water completely available and clean.

It was so disgusting, Reid didn't want to think about it. But Reid had to think about it. He was so thirsty, he needed the water to survive, and he knew it. He crawled over, inching himself to the toilet bowl. He dipped his hand in, feeling the water soothe his dry skin. He lifted his hand out of the water, letting a few drops slide off his hand and onto his tongue. The water freshened his mouth, but he couldn't help but think about the fact that this was toilet water. He was reduced to drinking out of a toilet, like a dog. He drank another couple handfuls, still ragingly thirsty. But he leaned back, shifting weight from his leg, and his elbow hit the switch to drain the bowl. He listened as the water drained out of the bowl, with no water in the pipes to replace it, the bowl didn't refill.

Reid sighed, exhausted by the withdrawal symptoms, and leaned against the wall, feeling the cold porcelain cool his forehead.

This was going to be a long few days.

_Present Day_

"I, I had a small drink a couple days ago," he said, speaking the longest sentence he had spoken since they found him.

Morgan could visibly see the difference in his Pretty Boy. Reid was hunched forward, keeping his hands crossed over his torso. He kept his eyes down, and when he looked up, he avoided eye contact. Reid was still squinting, even though the door was only letting in a little light, and Prentiss had put away the flashlight.

Rossi nodded at Reid's request for water. "C'mon, Reid. Let's get you out of here. There's an ambulance waiting outside, so you can get checked out. Ok?" he said.

Reid nodded, not looking up. He almost didn't believe they were here. Like they were side effects of dehydration. But he began to walk anyway. He walked towards the doorway nervously, as if not sure whether or not he wanted to leave.

Prentiss walked forward to Reid as he paused in front of the doorway, still heavily squinting underneath the sunglasses. She noticed his facial expression, and the display of emotions it held. Nervousness, closure, tranquility, anxiety, shame, guilt. All these emotions somehow displayed on his face. Reid always had expressive body language and facial expressions, but now they were practically written on him.

She gently reached for his hand, and when he looked up, she smiled. "We're here, Reid. And we're not going anywhere."

He nodded, gently grasping her hand and giving it a squeeze. Rossi and JJ walked in front of Reid out the doorway, and Morgan and Prentiss trailed behind.

As Reid stepped into the light, he closed his eyes in a flinch, but quickly opened them, although slightly, and continued walking. He carefully managed the steps, and when he reached the top of the stairs, he paused.

His team watched him sadly as he just closed his eyes, and breathed. Reid took in the smells, the grass, the wind. He hadn't realized he didn't have shoes until he was outside, since he never really needed shoes. He opened his eyes and just looked around.

Green trees, large lush maples, surrounded him. Virginia was always a beautiful state, but he never appreciated the colors and sights as much as he did right at the moment. He looked around, like a blind man seeing for the first time. But with Reid, it was more like seeing an old friend.

He let some tears of relief spill as he stood, just seeing. He didn't even know how long he was in that place. Never even seeing anything.

"Come on, Reid. Let's get you out of here," said Rossi. He looked at the young man with pity, and relief that they found him. Reid took a step forward, his hand-eye coordination was completely out of practice and poor at the moment. But he managed. Prentiss lead the way back to the house, while Morgan walked right with Reid the whole way back to the house, ready in case anything bad happened. No one spoke on the way to the house, because no words could have summed up anything they were feeling at the moment.

"I'm going to call Hotch," said JJ as Reid was pulled away to the ambulance, Morgan following in tow. The medics began checking him out, standard routine.

"What now?" asked Prentiss, looking at Rossi with a lost expression on her face, watching as the ambulance pulled away with Reid and Morgan inside.

Rossi shrugged. "With Reid, or with the case?"

"Both."

He sighed, and shrugged again. "I guess we'll have to find out, won't we? I guess this case is pretty much solved, it never was much of a case anyway. But I do want to find out why this guy took Reid in the first place," said Rossi.

Prentiss nodded, looking angry again. "It's just, he was right here, Rossi. He was ten miles away, and we never even found him. We hardly looked. And what exactly happened to him back there? We don't even know!" she ranted.

Rossi nodded. "I guess we'll find out when we read Dwyre's journals."

Hotch stood outside the interrogation room, going through some of Dwyre's journals, feeling dread well up inside him for the mental health of his youngest agent. Well, he wasn't sure what to call Reid anymore. Suddenly, his phone rang. He picked it up anxiously, hoping to get information on Reid. "Hotchner," he said, his standard greeting.

"Hey Hotch, it's JJ," her voice quavered over the line. Her voice was still strong, it just trembled at the same time. It was an odd combination.

"Did you find him?" asked Hotch, jumping right to the point. He held his breath without realizing it, waiting for the answer.

"Yeah, we found him. He's alive, Hotch," said JJ.

Hotch breathed out, closing his eyes for a moment. "Where is he now?"

"They're taking him to St. John's hospital in Quantico. For standard check-ups. That's all I know," she said, sighing.

Hotch nodded, even though she couldn't see him. "I'm meeting you there. All of you," he said. "I don't care about protocol. We are not, after all this, leaving Reid alone."

Hey, not much happened in this chapter except for Reid getting all, 'oooh, ahhh'. But hey, if you hadn't seen ANYTHING at all for a year and a half, you'd be like that too.

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	5. Hospital

First of all, I am really sorry that I kept you all waiting. I've had to deal with some stuff lately, and I've been somewhere where (save me!) there are no computers available. So, anyway, on with the story. I hope I haven't lost any of my faithful readers.

Hotch walked into the waiting room at what was a pace that drew many glares from nurses and hospital staff. He rushed into the ER room, where he saw a group of chairs off in a corner that were secluded enough for a private party. The people currently sitting in the chairs looked distraught, but relieved and happy at the same time. His team, together, and finally getting to see their lost member again.

"Hey Hotch," said Morgan, looking up from his chair.

"How much do we know?" said Agent Hotchner, looking down on his team. He took a seat next to Prentiss, who shifted in her seat to sit more upright.

Morgan sighed. "Well, we don't know much. For one thing, he can barely open his eyes."

"The light, it hurt his eyes really badly. I don't think he's seen daylight or any sort of artificial light since he was abducted," said Prentiss.

Hotchner closed his eyes, thinking back to what Dwyer had said to him. So far, his assumptions had been correct.

"There's something else, Hotch. There were track marks on his arms. So many of them, it was unbelievable. I think he was drugged. I don't know what kind of drug, but he looked like he might have been going through withdrawals." Morgan looked helpless as he looked onto Hotch. "Hotch, I don't know if he can go down that road again, not with all of this shit added onto his problems," he said, his voice low and quiet.

None of the other members said anything, but they were all in though. Was Morgan right? How much could one man take?

"We'll cross that road when we come to it," said Hotch, not wanting to face it at the moment.

They waited in silence, the finality of Hotch's statement had caused them all to keep their mouths closed and just think.

JJ sat in her chair next to Prentiss, the two, now close friends, holding each other's hands for reassurance.

Suddenly, a thought came to Morgan. "Aw, shit," he said, bending forward and rubbing his hands against his temple.

"What's wrong, Morgan?" said JJ, looking up.

He shook his head. "We haven't told Garcia yet."

The team looked around, shame that they hadn't told their loving tech-analyst that her Junior G-Man was alive. They were all wondering the same thing. How was she going to react?

"What?" said Garcia loudly, her fingers freezing on the keyboard as she heard Morgan over the phone. "He's, he's, how is he?" she said, shock covering her face. Tears were welling up in her eyes, tears of happiness and relief. "Ok, I'm coming right now! And, I'm bringing lots of candy! And books. And some of my Garcia flare thrown in for free. I'll be there faster then you can kick down a door, my chocolate thunder." Her voice was shaking during her entire phone call, and she stood up slowly.

She took a deep breath and composed herself. Reid was alive. Reid wasn't ok. But he would be. But how long until he would be? She stood still for a few seconds, just taking in the information she was just given.

She shook her head, and walked out the door. She would be the happiness that Reid needed. Now more than ever.

Shortly after Morgan had hung up the phone, a doctor came up through the glass doors that read, 'Hospital Personnel Only'. He looked harried, and his doctor's coat was slightly wrinkled on the sleeves. "Spencer Reid?" he asked, looking around the waiting room.

The whole team stood, and the doctor glanced at them, and walked over. "Biological family first, please," he spoke with practiced authority.

Hotch spoke with even more authority. "He doesn't have any," he said, not mentioning his mother or father. They couldn't be here, anyway. "I'm Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in the FBI. He works with us and we are his family."

The doctor eyed them, and sighed. "Ok. Spencer is stable, and his organs are all fine. He did have some self-inflicted wounds on his wrists, but they are healing up fine." The team looked stricken at this, but the doctor continued. "His eyes are extremely sensitive to light right now. It will take some time before they are completely used to light. I'm not 100% sure if they will regain full function in the light, as we have never had a patient who has been in this situation. We have no studies to compare him to, so we'll have to see how it goes. I recommend sunglasses, indoor and out, so as not to do further damage to his eyes.

"Now, this may sound very much like a movie, but Dr. Reid is suffering from severe 'Cabin Fever'. It is known as 'winter depression', and is usually found in patients who live in cold climates. Now, due to his long exposure to no light, and his lack of things to do, he has gotten a severe case of it. Some of these symptoms include irregular sleeping habits. Now, he probably already has irregular sleeping habits due to a warped sense of time. From what I'm told, he was left completely in the dark for a year and a half, with no objects in his cell, am I correct?" asked the doctor, after his long speech.

"Yes, there was nothing in his cell except for a toilet and a sink. It didn't have any light in it at all, and it was soundproof," said Rossi.

"Yes, as I expected. His sense of time is going to be completely warped, so he will have to get used to that again. He may have excess sleeping, or he may have insomnia, at this stage I couldn't tell you. He will also have a difficult time concentrating. He may have a warped sense of priorities as well. Right now, his whole mentality was based around survival. Eat, drink, sleep. That was all his life was, so right now, he may have a hard time dealing with little problems, everyday ones."

"Dr, I don't want to interrupt, but this is a lot of information. And we have once concern in particular, he had track marks on his arms. Do you have any information on that?" asked Hotch, his arms crossed with a serious expression on his face. The rest of the team was having a harder time containing their composures. Reid may be physically fine, but his mind was completely messed up.

"I was getting to that. From what I can tell, faint traces of drugs were in his system. It's been a few days, so they were very light, but we did get back the tox screen results. He had dilaudid in his system." The group around him looked shocked for a moment. Reid's choice drug? It didn't really make sense. "And he had trackmarks completely covering his arms. I'm assuming he didn't use any other locations on his body because he couldn't see. From what I can tell, he has been using for the past year, at least. He's going to be highly addicted. He may have to go to a program, unless you think you can deal with it?" he asked, his eyebrow raised.

"We can. We'll handle it ourselves," Morgan said. He couldn't believe it was dilaudid. Now he was wondering if Reid was drugged, or if Reid had chosen to take the drugs.

Morgan had been there for Reid the last time he had to deal with his addiction.

January 1, 2009, 3:23 AM (AN, sorry for interrupting. I don't know if this is the year or not, but basically, this is the year that Reid was addicted to drugs.)

Morgan had just got home after a very eventful New Years Eve party at his favorite bar. The night was full of flirting, confetti, drinks, and dancing, as was his New Year's tradition. He was slightly inebriated, and had a more-difficult-than-normal time getting up the steps. But when he reached the floor that his apartment was on, he instantly sobered up.

Laying on the floor right outside his apartment was Reid, his best friend. Lately he hadn't talked to Reid much outside of work, due to Reid's heightened attitude.

But he put all contempt he had held towards Reid's behavior aside as he saw the broken form of his friend. Reid's hair, usually clean and kempt, was greasy and hanging over his face. His shirt was wrinkled, and was buttoned uncorrectly. His pants had a stain on them, and his shoes were old and scuffed up. His face was pale, and he was a lot skinnier than he had been a year ago, if it was possible. His eyes were closed in sleep, and dark circles surrounded them, along with bags right under his bottom eyelid.

"Oh god, Reid." He rushed over, all drunken thoughts of his night completely washed away with concern for his friend. He gently pushed Reid onto his back, and tapped his cheek gently.

"Reid? Reid, wake up man, come on," he said. Reid's eyes opened slowly, and gazed at Morgan. Morgan's heart fell when he saw the dilated, glazed eyes of a high in Reid's eyes.

"Morgan?" he spoke, his voice small and raspy.

"Yeah Reid, I'm here. Come on," he said, pulling Reid up off the floor. Reid swayed in spot when he stood, and he grabbed onto Morgan for a second.

Morgan shook his head, and pulled Reid into his apartment. "Come on, Reid. Sit down," he said, gesturing to the couch. His dog, Clooney, the world's worst guard dog, remained asleep by his bedroom door.

Reid collapsed onto the couch, but then bent forward, hugging his torso, not meeting Morgan's eyes.

"Reid? What's wrong, man? Why are you here? Why didn't you call?" Morgan asked, sitting down beside Reid, holding a cup of newly made coffee for his friend.

"I forgot my phone. And I needed to see you," said Reid quietly.

Morgan sighed. "Reid, I need to ask you something. Have you been taking drugs?"

Reid didn't look up, but he nodded. "Are you high right now?" asked Morgan, already knowing the answer.

Reid looked up at Morgan, his giant eyes pleading and water. He nodded again. Morgan's heart swelled at the sight of his broken friend. He placed a hand on Reid's back, and handed him the coffee.

"I'm so ashamed," Reid said. "But I wanted to start over. It's a new year, a new year's resolution. And I need help," he said, tears spilling. "I'm a junkie, Morgan. A druggie!"

Morgan felt pain in his heart, hearing his best friend plead for help. "Reid, you can get through this. It is a new start. You told someone, you admitted you need help. That's what separates you from a junkie. So you know what? This is your New Year's Resolution. We'll get you clean, Reid. I promise."

Present Day

"Alright, if you say so," the doctor said. "If you want to visit him, he's in room 204 on floor 5. He's not supposed to have visitors, but I'll make exceptions in this case."

"Thank you," said Prentiss sincerely.

The doctor nodded, sighing. He hoped that the young man wouldn't be as broken as he feared he would be. His friends would be devastated if he was as bad as he expected.

"By the way, he is going to need to see a psychologist. As soon as possible, preferably."

Hotch nodded. "Ok, we can handle that."

The doctor bid them farewell, and they made their way to the elevator. "He's going to be ok. Eventually, he'll be ok," said Prentiss, more to herself than to her colleagues.

Rossi looked over at her, and empathized with her. "Yeah. He's strong. He'll be ok."

The elevator ride seemed to take forever, the only talking was Morgan, calling Garcia to let her know that room Reid was in.

They made their way to room 204. There was a small window, so they could see him with the door closed. But instead of staring at him through the window, they made their way inside. Hotch entered first.

"Hey, Reid," he said. Reid was laying on a hospital bed, propped up a fair ways. His hair was long, reaching his shoulders, but it was pushed behind his ears. His arms were wrapped in bandages, so they couldn't see any extent in damage. He had sunglasses on, even though they were indoors and the light was low.

His head swiveled towards Hotch. "Hey Hotch," he rasped. His voice was hoarse and scratchy due to lack of use.

Hotch made his way in, followed by the team. They were all covering up any shock and sadness from the news they were just given by the doctor. JJ went over right away and hugged him, and Prentiss did the same. Morgan nodded and gave him a smile, and didn't say much.

Rossi spoke. "it's good to have you back, Reid," he said, smiling.

Reid nodded, still unsmiling, but not in a mean way. He was just overwhelmed and relieved. He was back. But the thought of starting life again, of everything going back to the way it used to be, seemed so unlikely, and so surreal.

Hmmm, I like how this turned out.

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And again, my apologies. Hopefully, now that it is summer, I will be able to update more often. I do like this story and I'm not giving up on it any time soon. And sorry if the chapters are messed up. I was editing stuff, and my AN got reposted, and moved to chapter 6, and all kinds of stuff. So, I guess if anything is messed up, sorry.

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